


this is the new year

by SalomeWeil



Series: holiday season [6]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bathtubs, Big Dogs, Coffee, Dogs, Drinking, Drunkenness, F/M, Hangover, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mental Health Issues, One Shot, Swearing, Vomiting, implied trauma, part of a series, past trauma, puking, st. bernard, whole beans, yes I tagged whole bean coffee what of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 14:47:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13343445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalomeWeil/pseuds/SalomeWeil
Summary: Rey doesn't remember much about the New Year's Eve party, but Kylo doesn't appear to be as bothered as she expected. In a relationship as full of surprises as theirs has been, is it any wonder if their destiny seems as inevitable as the coming of the new year?





	this is the new year

**Author's Note:**

> As always, rated M for swearing and adult situations...but not that kind of adult situation. Sorry not sorry.

________________________________________________________

 

Rey woke up slowly to the feel of warmth and soft pillows and filtered daylight spilling over her neck and shoulders...and a dull throbbing in her temples. She let out a soft moan and rolled over, right into something very solid and very big. Rey scrambled to sit up at the sensation of not being alone after having been blissfully asleep, sending her already hurting head into a talespin of sharp pain and blurred vision. She covered her face with her hands and pressed her fingers against her eyelids, trying to blot out the offending light and whatever sight would greet her. Was it Kylo? Naked Kylo? Or worse?

 

There was a soft grunting noise from the large shape next to her and she spread the fingers of one hand to peek out between them. All she saw at first was a large, lumpy form, half covered by a blanket and...half covered with fur? She pulled her hands away from her face too quickly and the wave of vertigo she was battling intensified. Then the lump of fur and gentle snuffling noises next to her was nudging against her legs, and lumbering to its feet...paws? And then it was shoving its giant nose in her face and licking it and she was laughing despite the fact that it made her more nauseous than she could remember being in a long, long time.

 

“Rey?” came the distant sound of Kylo’s voice calling to her. “Rey - oh, god, I’m sorry. Freya - Freya, down!”

 

“No, it’s ok,” Rey said, putting her hands up and unwittingly petting the lumbering animal that was attacking her with kisses. “I just wasn’t expecting this - oh.” She paused and slapped a hand over her mouth as her stomach lost its battle with the leftover contents of whatever she’d drunkenly ingested the night before.

 

“Rey? Oh, shit -” Kylo, bless him, got the trash bin under her chin just in time and she proceeded to get sick in front of the man she loved.

 

She knew he was the man she loved, because instead of running away during the entire three, miserable minutes, he sat down next to her on the bed, held her hair back, and rubbed her back gently. Also, she was pretty sure she’d confessed her love for him last night during the midst of the party. Then again, if it happened while she was drunk, did it count?

 

Freya, the gentle beast on her other side, nudged her shoulders and whined.

 

“Freya, get out of here,” Kylo said, irritated. The dog refused to listen and instead whuffed at Rey one more time before lying back down beside her. Kylo sighed and continued to rub Rey’s back. “Can I get you anything? Water? Start a bath?”

 

“I’m sorry, we’re not at your apartment, are we?” Rey asked when she’d heaved the last time.

 

“No,” Kylo said, sounding apologetic.

 

“Then…”

 

“Still at my mother’s,” he said.

 

Rey sighed heavily and her shoulders slumped even further. “Was I really that drunk?”

 

Kylo didn’t answer and instead took the trash bin from her to remove the offending bag and knot it tightly. He went on to put a new bag in it before handing it back over. “I’ll start a bath for you.”

 

“Oh god,” Rey muttered, propping herself up over the trash bin again and covering her face with her hands.

 

Freya whined again and Rey looked down at her through her fingers as Kylo wandered into the en suite to follow his words with action.

 

“Was I really that bad?” she whispered. The dog rolled its eyes up at her. Rey closed her eyes and let the rush of water fill her ears as she rested her aching forehead against the lip of the trash bin. The light lemon scent of the liner filled her nostrils and began lulling her still rumbling stomach into a calmer, quieter state, and the contrasting tension in her temples seemed almost bearable.

 

_________________________________________

 

Kylo squatted by the bathtub, one hand checking the water temperature and swirling the clear liquid every few seconds while he used his other hand to prop him up, chin resting on the palm. His face was blank, his gaze internal and focused on his memories of the previous evening.

 

In the first place, the music had been too loud, as it always was at his mother’s New Year’s Eve parties. In the second place, there had been an entirely too-open bar, upon which his mother insisted, without fail. In the third place, there had been his hermit-crab Uncle Luke, his presence heralded by his rotten, slobbery, fluffy, cuddlebug St. Bernard, Freya. In the fourth place, there were too many faces in the crowd of people who had known him in his previous life and probably shouldn’t still know his mother now.

 

But even after all those things, there was Rey, looking like she’d managed to drape the night sky over her narrow frame: the barely-there, sequined constellation dress had been accentuated by silver, smokey eyes and a glistening, pouting nude lip that spent half the night tempting him with sweet nothings and flirting smiles and the other half downing drinks from the too-open bar.

 

She’d made the whole night worth it, up until the point where he discovered her leaning heavily against one of his mother’s bookshelves while crouched low in a corner of the study, and looking like she’d seen something that had either terrified her or was absolutely hilarious.

 

Her last words to him before she’d passed out ghosted across his mind.

 

“Happy New Year, Kylo.”

 

“Happy New Year,” he’d replied, his voice wry. “Do I need to get you out of here?”

 

“Need to get out of my fucking mind,” she’d mumbled back.

 

“What?”

 

“Fucking New Year,” she’d gone on to slur, before leaning into him.

 

She’d felt heavy and light all at once and his heart had begun pounding hard, once upon a time the signal of an impending panic attack. Instead of giving into it, however, he’d slid his arms around her and hefted her up, then carried her up to one of his mother’s guest rooms as discreetly as possible.

 

He’d spent the remainder of the night by her side, dozing off and on, checking on her during bouts of wakefulness and making sure there would be fresh water and aspirin on the nightstand for the morning. He’d watched this beautiful woman who loved him - because she had totally told him that earlier in the evening, before she’d been three sheets to the wind - and wondered why she loved him. He’d wondered why a gorgeous, successful, free creature like her would support an idiot like him, who just mucked up people’s lives and never apologized for it; wondered why she’d want to spend her holidays and free time with him and his fucked up family and friends; wondered _why_.

 

She was from a fucked up childhood, yes, but she was still young, and thriving, and fun-loving, and he was just going to _drag her down_ like he had already with that idiotic subpoena -

 

“Kylo?”

 

He fell back on his heels and looked up at her, standing there in the doorway of the bathroom, skin wan and pulled taut over her bones. She looked ready to collapse and he propelled himself to his feet.

 

“Bath’s ready,” he murmured.

 

“I’m sorry I drank too much,” she blurted out. His eyes widened some. He hadn’t been expecting that.

 

“It’s what young people do once in a while, right?” he replied and shrugged.

 

She looked ashamed. “Not me,” she said. “I don’t drink too much. I never have. Our Thanksgiving was the closest I’ve come to tipsy in a long time.”  

 

He thought back to the glasses of scotch shared over his mother’s kitchen counters and smiled.

 

“It’s ok, Rey,” he said, his voice gentle. “I just hope you had fun.”

 

“I didn’t,” she said, rushing ahead in her speech. “I didn’t intend to drink so much. I was having fun with you earlier in the night, I mean, but then I saw - I mean -”

 

When she didn’t continue, he narrowed his eyes and his attorney instinct kicked in.

 

“You mean you saw something that made you uncomfortable?”

 

She just stared at the ground and he could see tears threatening to fall from her lashes.

 

“Rey, come on in. Take a bath. Get cleaned up. And we can talk about it afterward.”

 

She looked up at him suddenly, biting her lower lip, blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay.

 

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” she asked and her voice was so broken in that moment he felt the starkness of what her childhood must have been, every day, wash over him. It left him breathless, and empty, and if he didn’t do something quickly, the rage that normally accompanied the thought that she’d been hurt would rush in and overwhelm him...and she didn’t need that from him.

 

She needed acceptance, and compassion, and quietude.

 

So, he stepped forward and slid his arms around her slowly, feeling the way she tensed beneath him at first, but then relaxed into him as he tightened his hold on her.

 

“Rey,” he began, “I can’t promise you that I will never get mad at you. I’m sure I will get mad, about stupid things like what you make for dinner, or what movie you expect me to go see, or how you hang the toilet paper. I may even get mad about important things, like what you spent your paycheck on, or who you vote for in the next election. And while I’m not upset now, I really can’t promise I’d _never_ be upset with you for wanting to get drunk every once in a while - a decision that will always be yours and yours alone.” He took a breath.

 

“But I can promise you that when your past comes back to haunt you - and it always will, even when it eventually fades from every week to every year, or five years - I will never be mad at you for how you handle it. Your past wasn’t something you had control over and I understand that the way you handle it isn’t always something you can control, either. I just want you to know that you can come to me for help when you need it.”

 

Rey lifted her face to his and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then one to each cheek, tasting the salt of her tears there.

 

“I will,” she breathed, ducking her head again, hiding her face against his chest.

 

He managed a smile, although he was pretty sure they were both crying now.

 

“Time for a bath?”

 

He felt her nod as he tucked her head under his chin and hugged her again.

 

“Wait for me?” she asked in a small voice.

 

He nodded against her head and heard her sigh. “Towels are next to the tub,” he said. “Soap and shampoo are in the basket above the bath. I’ll just be in the bedroom.”

 

Then he kissed the top of her head, let her slip out of his arms, and exited the bathroom, closing the door gently behind him.

 

____________________________________________

 

Taking that bath made Rey felt like she was a snake, sloughing her old skin for the new creation beneath. The creation that was still her, but at least fresh and ready to meet the challenges of a new year. Except there was nothing new about her, or the year. Everything was the same - she was still a product of every year prior, of every mistake, every wrong, every shit situation that had come her way since she was born.

 

Yet she felt different. She felt stronger. She felt ready to confront the past this time, instead of wallowing in it or running away. Maybe that was what love did. Maybe that was what a healthy embrace, what the knowledge that not only was she not alone because she had _friends_ ; but she would _never_ be alone now because a lover had imprinted himself upon her life so indelibly that she would never be able to rub her lips again without thinking of how his mouth felt on hers; or run a hand across her stomach without knowing that his fingers had ghosted along her skin so tenderly, so full of worship, that her body was a sacred space for the love of another.

 

And just as he’d said, he was there in the next room when she exited the bathroom, hair damp and curling, skin glistening above and below the towel she’d wrapped around herself. She offered him a smile and he smiled back before extending a hand out to her.

 

She took it, feeling not-quite shy, and approached the bed where he was seated.

 

“I set out some old clothes. They’ll be big on you, but more comfortable than rewearing your dress.” He eyed her up and down. “Even though you looked incredible in it.”

 

“That’s fine,” she said, ignoring the compliment as he tugged her forward to stand between his legs. He wrapped his arms around her waist and looked up at her.

 

“Good.” He hesitated and she leaned down to kiss him. She felt better about her hangover breath now that she’d gargled, but she still pulled away before he could deepen the kiss. He smiled again. “Will you be ok if I go downstairs to my mother?”

 

“Fine,” she said again. “Want me to join you?”

 

“Of course. We’ll probably be in the kitchen,” he said, standing up. “Freya!” he said sharply and the dog lifted its head from its place on the bed behind Ben. Rey hadn’t even noticed the animal was still in the room, but she smiled and shrugged, turning to the clothes Ben had laid out. Freya made some loud snuffling noises and then whined before laying her head back down.

 

“No. Freya, come,” Kylo said firmly. The dog gave Rey the side eye before groaning again and then hefting herself to her paws before galumphing off the bed. Rey turned slightly to watch the gentle giant follow _her_ gentle giant out of the room.

 

She continued to smile as she got dressed.

 

_____________________________________________

 

“Strangest New Year party I’ve ever been to,” Uncle Luke was saying when he rounded the corner of the hall outside the kitchen. “How are you still friends with half those people, Leia?”

 

Kylo heard his mother snort and the sound of a coffee mug being set down.

 

“You haven’t been by in a decade, Luke, and you think you know who I should be friends with? Christ.”

 

“Aw, come on, Mom. Uncle Luke always thinks he knows best,” Kylo said, entering the kitchen. He gave a perfunctory smile to the room at large and headed straight for the coffee pot.

 

“Good morning, nephew,” Luke said, lifting his cup of tea in greeting.

 

“Mom, where are your dark roasts?” Kylo asked, sorting through the stack of mason jars filled with varying roasts of whole beans that sat on the kitchen counter beside the coffee maker.

 

“Gone,” Leia replied. “I’m going through a medium to light phase.”

 

“Gross,” Kylo replied, but selected a jar anyway.

 

“If you’d just drink tea instead…” Luke said into his mug before drinking deep.

 

“No, thank you,” Kylo said. “What the fuck are you doing here, anyway?” he asked as he ground up a selection of beans for his brew.

 

“I invited him, like I always do,” Leia said. “I just didn’t think he’d come.”

 

“Nice to see Freya is doing well, at least,” Kylo said, nodding at the dog that was now sitting at his side, watching his every move. “It’s not food,” he told her and she just whuffed at him and whomped her tail on the ground a few times.

 

“That’s not Freya,” Luke said, a mournful cast to his expression.

 

Kylo gave a start and turned to look at his uncle. “Excuse me?”

 

“That’s Breha.”

 

“What happened to Freya?”

 

“Cancer, two years ago. But Breha is a good girl,” Luke said, his expression brightening a bit. “Got her from a rescue a year and a half ago.”

 

“Christ,” Leia mumbled around the lip of her coffee mug.

 

“Did you have to name her after Grandmother?” Kylo asked, irritated.

 

“She wasn’t _my_ mother. Besides, I like the name.”

 

Kylo looked pointedly at his mother. “So insanity runs in the family.”

 

“At least you’re doing something about yours,” Leia quipped back, raising an eyebrow at her erstwhile son.

 

“Um, hello,” came a soft voice from the doorway behind him. Kylo turned as his mother whisked past him.

 

“Rey! Did you sleep well? Need a hangover cure?” Leia asked as she embraced the young woman.

 

 _Don’t take it,_ Kylo mouthed at her over his mother’s shoulder. Rey’s face was split by a sudden, infectious grin and he found himself smiling back.

 

The conversation he’d wanted to have with his mother about her guest list and how Rey’d obviously seen a figure from her past could wait a while longer. Rey’s court date with the grand jury was already set and they’d make it through it together, regardless.

 

For now, it was the new year, they were ensconced in safety and warmth and had plenty of quality caffeine at their fingertips, and they were surrounded by the love of each other and of his weird and prickly, but mostly kind, relatives. Resolutions and actions would come later.

 

From now on, Rey would come first.

 

_____________________________________________________

**Author's Note:**

> Here's hoping we all find a relationship as inevitable as this pairing. And here's to knowing that sometimes, inevitably still takes hard work and commitment. Don't let the past eat you from the ground up, loves.


End file.
